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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268754">my heart was wrapped up in clover</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblesodatea/pseuds/bubblesodatea'>bubblesodatea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oh My God, They Were Coworkers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Holiday Hijinkz, Oh my god they were coworkers, San Francisco Bay Area, West Coast Tech</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:14:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblesodatea/pseuds/bubblesodatea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Annette's out for blood. Felix is just kind of along for the ride. </p><p>All's fair in love, war, and competitive interoffice gingerbread house decorating.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Marianne von Edmund, Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Bernadetta von Varley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oh My God, They Were Coworkers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>my heart was wrapped up in clover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is technically set in the same universe as another fic of mine, but you don't need to read it for any context. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <em>THE MISSION - 8:03 PM </em> </strong>
</p><p>“Ah, hello everyone,” Dimitri says into his microphone, giving the crowd of guests an awkward wave with his free hand. “I hope you’re all having a good holiday party! Before we go into our big activity of the evening, I just wanted to thank Dedue again for arranging the catering.” </p><p>Dimitri nods to where the white-haired man is standing, looking a little embarrassed at the sudden attention. The food really was good tonight; Annette claps enthusiastically alongside her friends, amused when she sees Ingrid hastily try to join in the cheering with a full cheese roll in her mouth.</p><p>“So, this year we’re doing our second annual gingerbread house decorating contest! Before we start, I just wanted to go over some rules and the prizes,” Dimitri says. Annette can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across her face at the announcement, the sound of gingerbread calling to mind many of her childhood Christmasses. She’s made many a gingerbread house before, but she’s excited to compete with her coworkers for the first time. Plus, it also answers the questions as to why several tables in the back had been mysteriously covered in a cloth sheet all evening.</p><p>Annette wonders if Dimitri’s secretly just as big a fan of the <em> Great British Bake Off </em> as she is. </p><p>“For the contest, each gingerbread house will be judged on their appearance and creativity. Um, and the house still has to be standing when we get to it,” Dimitri says. Someone near the back of the room (Annette can’t see who, but she thinks it’s Leonie) calls out: </p><p>“Who’s judging this year?”</p><p>“Me and Dedue, like last year. But since Manuela’s already left for vacation, my sister has been kind enough to fill in for her this time. She had to step outside for a bit, but she said we could get started without her.”</p><p>Annette hears a sigh from behind her. She turns around to see Felix, staring ahead at Dimitri with a furrow between his brows. </p><p>“What?” Annette asks.  He frowns, but not at her.</p><p>“Have you ever met Dimitri’s sister?”</p><p>“No? I think he’s mentioned having a sister a few times, but I didn’t know she was here,” Annette says. Should she have recognized Dimitri’s sister? Her coworkers tend to be very close, with this being a small company and all, and Annette can’t help but feel reminded of her newcomer status.</p><p>Annette cranes her neck, trying to identify anyone who could be the Blaiddyd sister. There are a few people she doesn’t recognize, people who are guests of her coworkers, but the only person who stands out as tall and blonde enough is Ingrid. Annette gasps and tugs on Felix’s shirtsleeve.</p><p>“Is Ingrid—”</p><p>“No, they’re not related,” Felix says, with the exasperated air of someone who’s had to answer the question dozens of times before, but his tone eases slightly when he sees the disappointed look on her face. “I’ll point her out to you when she gets here.” </p><p>Annette opens her mouth to respond, but Dimitri continues talking. </p><p>“Everything for the houses has been provided already—and after what happened last year, I want to reiterate that nothing from the rest of the party can be used to build a gingerbread house. Especially not anything inedible and possibly toxic.”</p><p>Is it just Annette’s imagination, or is Dimitri staring extra hard at Sylvain?</p><p>“We won’t actually eat the cookies you use for the houses—we bought it in bulk, so I’ve been told it’s not very good anyways. But again, our Dedue has brought some homemade gingerbread loaf, so please enjoy that instead!” Dimitri says. </p><p>“Gingerbread loaf sounds tasty,” Annette sighs. Felix lets out a noncommittal grunt from beside her. </p><p>“Oh, and since all of the prizes are for two or more people, we’ve decided to have everyone work in pairs this year! Non-employees can participate too, but only if they’re on a team with an employee. I think that’s everything, so if you all—”</p><p>“Hold on! What are the prizes?” Sylvain shouts, cupping his hands over his mouth. There are cheers in the room, and Annette joins in, clapping her hands together. She can’t deny that she’s curious. </p><p>Dimitri blinks and fiddles with the mic in his hands. “I...was going to wait until afterwards to announce the prizes. Wouldn’t you rather be surprised?”</p><p>There’s a loud chorus of no’s. </p><p>“Prizes are <em> motivating </em> , Dima,” Sylvain says, giving Dimitri a sardonic smile. “Don’t you want us to be <em> motivated </em>?”</p><p>“Fine, fine, I suppose so. Let me just pull up the list on my phone…” Dimitri does just that, and begins reading off the screen. “Uh, the third place prize is a spa package for the Sauna downtown.”</p><p>Annette is in shock. Did she somehow mishear Dimitri? The <em> third place </em> prize is a spa package? How can the prizes possibly get any better? What’s first place, then—a solid gold bar? She had been planning to compete anyways, but the allure of the prize only strengthens her resolve. Annette can see that she’s not the only one, however; quite a few people who hadn’t seemed excited for the contest are now keenly paying attention.</p><p>Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice. “The second place prize is a private guided tour through the San Francisco Zoo. Tickets provided, of course! I’ve always liked the big cat exhibit.” </p><p>Big cats! Annette’s so excited she’s practically vibrating in place. Someone tall steps in front of her, but she side-steps them to focus on Dimitri, as if losing sight of him will lead to her losing the contest. A spa day had sounded good, but a private day at the zoo sounds more unique and educational. Annettes wishes there was a way to somehow win both.</p><p>The anticipation is building up for the first place prize. Even Felix, still standing next to Annette, is paying rapt attention (even though he’s trying very hard to seem like he isn’t).</p><p>“And the first place prize is courtesy of my sister, actually. She experienced it for her birthday, and recommended it to me. Our grand prize is two roundtrip tickets for the Napa Valley winery train.”</p><p>Annette blinks once. </p><p>Annette blinks twice. </p><p>Is she hearing him correctly?</p><p>It seems like she’s not the only one taken aback by Dimitri’s words, because the room is suddenly loud with the sounds of people frantically trying to pair up. Annette hears Felix’s voice coming from behind her, speaking quietly but with a lot of feeling:</p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ, Dimitri.” </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>THE ALLIANCE - 8:20 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>Annette loves her coworkers at Lance Tech. Seriously, she does. They’ve all done their part to welcome her into their office, being the new face and all, and Annette’s friendships have only deepened over time. She loves talking to Bernadetta, the artist-in-residence, about all things design related. Ashe, the operational manager, is one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met. Ingrid Galatea is quickly growing to become one of her best friends in San Francisco. </p><p>So yes, Annette loves her coworkers.</p><p>But that won’t stop her from <em> utterly oblierating them off the face of the Earth </em>tonight if it means winning the grand prize. </p><p>Two tickets for the luxury Napa Valley Wine Train: dinner, wine, and transportation included. Beautiful nature! Historical scenery! Fancy little cakes! It’s a prize Annette was born to win.</p><p>“I’m great at gingerbread decorating,” she says, speaking more to hype herself up than to anyone in particular. “And I’m great at frosting. I’m great at <em> winning </em>.”</p><p>“Is the prize really that good?”</p><p>That dry remark comes from Felix, still clad in a dark blue sweater that doesn’t really look any different from the clothes he normally wears. The only remotely festive touch is a small snowflake embroidered on the chest. By comparison, Annette is dressed in a dark green dress decorated with one large bow, a matching headband, and jingle-bell earrings.</p><p>She doesn’t begrudge his lack of holiday cheer. It’s possible Felix doesn’t even celebrate anything this time of year, and (Annette will only admit this to herself) the cut of his sweater is very flattering. But his lack of enthusiasm for the contest is, well, inexcusable.</p><p>“Of course I want the grand prize! Who wouldn’t?” Annette asks, pulling herself out of her thoughts. </p><p>“This is typical Dimitri,” Annette hears Felix mutter, raising his cup to his lips. “He’s got no sense of money. I saw him try to pay for the BART with a check, once.” </p><p>Annette looks to the back of the room; Dimitri’s currently trying to help set up the gingerbread house supplies, but he knocks over sprinkle jars enough times that Dedue sends him away.</p><p>It’s kind of funny to see such a large man pout.</p><p>Annette hums. “I’ve looked up the tickets for the winery train before, you know, and they were $300 at the <em> cheapest </em> . I can’t believe Dimitri’s paying for them himself. I knew he was rich, but <em> wow </em> , he’s <em> rich </em> rich.” </p><p>“Yeah. This contest is pointless,” Felix says. “The holiday bonus was enough.”</p><p>“That sounds like <em> loser </em> talk, Felix. You can’t sound like a loser if we’re going to win this.” </p><p>Felix stills and side-eyes Annette. “What do you mean by ‘we?””</p><p>“Well, you heard Dimitri! We have to be in pairs!” Annette says, bouncing up and down slightly. Her jingle-bell earrings chime in time with her movements. Her friend very pointedly looks away, most likely to avoid the huge-eyed pleaful expression currently on Annette’s face. </p><p>“Ask Ingrid,” Felix says. </p><p>“I’m pretty sure that as much as we’re friends, Ingrid would rather be partnered up with Sylvain. You know, since they’re engaged and everything.” </p><p>“Bernadetta, then. You’re both good at artistic stuff.”</p><p>Annette shakes her head. “Bernadetta brought her boyfriend,” she says, gesturing to the lilac-haired man standing next to Bernadetta. Yuri, she thinks his name is. </p><p>“Linhardt, then,” Felix says, seemingly just picking names at random at this point. “You’re both single, so you can pair up without an excuse.”</p><p>“Ugh, no,” Annette says.</p><p>This, for some reason, makes Felix falter. “You’re not single?”</p><p>“What? No, I am,” Annette says, rushing to clarify herself. For some reason, she <em> really </em> doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea. “And I don’t dislike Linhardt! But he has no competitive spirit, and I want to win. Felix, I really, really want to win.” </p><p>Felix looks back at her, and Annette can tell that he’s starting to run out of reasons why he shouldn’t participate. “I don’t even want any of the damn prizes.” </p><p>“So just do it for me, because we’re friends?” Annette says, clasping her hands together, staring pleadingly at Felix. For a second, she’s self-conscious; is it possible that he really doesn’t want to partner up with her? She doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries or make him uncomfortable.</p><p>Those fears are dashed as soon as they enter her mind, because Felix sighs with the gravitas of a martyr and pinches the bridge of his nose. </p><p>“Fine. But only because you’re pouting.”</p><p>Annette does her best to smooth out her expression into a more dignified one. “I’m not pouting,” she sulks, but even Felix’s aloof tone can’t bring down her excitement. When she straightens back up, it’s with an extra pep in her step. With her teammate secured, Annette feels more confident than ever that she’ll win, and she beams at Felix.</p><p>She thinks maybe her holiday enthusiasm is infectious, because Felix considers her for a second and then, almost shyly, smiles back.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>THE BATTLE PLAN - 8:41 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>“The first mistake people make is that they try to pipe on icing <em> after </em> putting the house together. That makes it harder to get the proper amount of control to create even, clean lines and intricate designs. If I focus on piping on the roof while you work on the lawn, we’ll be able to make it look nice without wasting any time.”</p><p>Felix looks at Annette like she’s sprouted a second head. “The contest started five minutes ago. How do you <em> already </em> have that plan in mind?” </p><p>Annette shrugs one shoulder, looking down at the ingredients spread out over the table. “We had a gingerbread house contest every year in my troop—I was a Girl Scout, you know.” </p><p>“Of course you were,” Felix says. </p><p>“Why do people always say that when I tell them?” Annette complains. “I don’t get it.” </p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Felix says. His tone is as brusque as ever, but his shoulders relax in a way that tells Annette that he’s amused. It’s easier to read hisy body language than his expressions; Felix is rather like a grumpy street cat in that way. </p><p>“I don’t mean to steamroll you, though. If you want to do it differently, we can,” Annette says.</p><p>Felix picks up a tube of icing and examines it critically, as if it’s offended him in some way. “No. You want the prize, right? Just tell me what to do so you can win.” </p><p>He speaks matter-of-factly, and Annette knows that he’s only referring to the gingerbread house, but his words still make her heart flutter for some unfathomable reason. She’s suddenly glad that he’s staring at the icing and not at her, because the tips of her ears are definitely turning an embarrassing share of red. </p><p>Annette fiddles with the sleeves of her dress, letting herself indulge in this warm, fuzzy feeling quickly spreading across her chest for one second. Back when she first started working here, Annette probably would have panicked over Felix’s lack of small talk. As someone who overthinks—well, everything, Annette had had a hard time understanding Felix at first: his blunt mannerisms and aloof tone were completely unfamiliar to her. </p><p>Now, they bring each other drinks some mornings, and they have one very convoluted (and kind of embarrassing) inside joke relating to Apple Pay. Annette likes to think that means they’ve become close over the past few months.</p><p>Why else would he be rolling up his sleeves now, preparing for a gingerbread contest he isn’t even invested in?</p><p>“Thanks,” is all Annette can trust herself to say; if she says another word, she’ll surely start stammering. And she can’t have that, because she needs to <em> focus </em>. </p><p>“Sure,” Felix says curtly.</p><p>Her heart skips a beat, but Annette squashes that down; there are bigger things to think about right now. <em> Eyes on the prize, Dominic.  </em></p><p>She hands Felix a handful of gumdrops, and with complete solemnity, says:</p><p>“I hope you’re ready to win.” </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>TO WAR - 9:00 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>Annette had started out the evening with gently curled ringlets. She doesn’t usually curl her hair, finding that she likes her natural waves enough, but she had figured that her first office party was reason enough to style her hair. She had even had her roommate, Mercedes, help her with the back of her head that she had trouble reaching.</p><p>All that effort was clearly for nothing now, because her hair’s been brushed apart, and is currently arranged in the messiest bun it’s ever been in. The way it’s perched on her head makes it look not unlike a muppet. She might look a mess, but Annette’s glad that Dedue at least had the foresight to provide them all with aprons. </p><p>(That, however, had not been enough to save Cyril or his black sweater from a particularly explosive bag of powdered sugar.) </p><p>True to her plan, Annette’s been focusing her attention on the intricate icing work on the roof, trusting Felix with all the candy-related decoration. Annette’s hand is pretty steady—she does accidentally knock over a jar of peppermints once or twice, but nothing breaks. </p><p>Annette feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns.</p><p>“Is this what you had in mind?” Felix asks, gesturing at the parts of the house that are currently assembled. Despite all his insistence that he hadn’t wanted to participate, Felix is actually pretty good at decorating. His candy placement is very precise.</p><p>“It looks great! It was a good call to stick to just blue and orange gumdrops. It looks so much neater like this!” Annette says. “I think we can add the support gingerbread now.” </p><p>The support gingerbread is what Annette calls the squares of cookie placed specifically to keep the structure standing. It’s perhaps a touch more mathematical than anyone else’s gingerbread house, since it involves measuring and making specific cuts, but:</p>
<ol>
<li>Winning is worth any number of precision</li>
<li>Felix had been, like, actually excited when he heard he could use a knife.</li>
</ol><p>Despite how burningly competitive Annette feels, she’s also enjoying the general holiday atmosphere of the party. Cheerful music has been playing steadily over Dimitri’s speakers for the past few hours, and it’s nice to see everyone dressed in festive clothing. Sylvain’s green elf hat clashes horribly with his hair (as a fellow ginger, Annette can sympathize), and Yuri’s Hanukkah sweater has little bulbs that light up when he presses a button. The people who aren’t participating in the contest linger near the edge of the room, making quiet small talk.</p><p>“Should we be worried about Ashe? He told me he worked at his parent’s bakery growing up,” Annette says, casting a suspicious glance at the freckled man. Ashe catches her staring at him and gives her a cheerful wave; Annette returns it, and hopes that it conveys that she still values him as a friend, but also that she intends to utterly wipe the floor with him in this contest.</p><p>Somehow, Annette doesn’t think her wave communicated all that. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Just focus,” Felix says. </p><p>“Do you think his friend is any good at decorating?” Annette says, ignoring Felix’s words entirely to focus on the pretty blue haired woman next to Ashe. She cranes her neck out towards the other woman. Felix makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat and tugs Annette back to the desk by her sleeve.</p><p>“Marianne? That’s Ashe’s <em> wife </em>,” he says. “And I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” </p><p>Annette gasps and claps a hand to her face. “He’s <em> married </em>?” </p><p>“Yes. I just said she was his wife.” </p><p>“He’s <em> married </em> ?” Annette repeats, shocked and horrified. “Oh no, that means they live together...They’ve probably practiced decorating gingerbread houses dozens of times before. They must be experts! <em> Felix </em>, this would be so much easier if we were married.”</p><p>Felix lets go of Annette’s sleeve and looks away. “I don’t think that’s what married couples do in their free time.”</p><p>“Ugh, I should have practiced. If I lose this, I’ll never forgive myself,” Annette groans.</p><p>They work in silence for a few minutes before Felix speaks up again.</p><p>“Is gingerbread house building always this intense?” Felix asks. Annette glances up from her icing work, surprised.</p><p>“Is this your first time building one?”</p><p>Felix’s brows furrow slightly. “I’ve never seen a reason to build one before. It’s not really a tradition my family has.”</p><p>“Ooh, what traditions <em> does </em> your family have?” Annette asks excitedly. Talking about warm memories is one of her favorite parts of this season, and she won’t deny she’s curious about Felix’s. “My mom used to take me and a bunch of the other kids in the neighborhood out carolling every year. That was a lot of fun. And Christmas was the only day of the year where I was allowed to eat sugary cereal for breakfast! Every other day, it was cornflakes only until I was fifteen. Ew.” </p><p>“Cornflakes aren’t that bad,” Felix says. Annette’s hands are still preoccupied with icing the roof, so she settles for nudging him with her foot.</p><p>“But what’s your family tradition?”</p><p>Felix is silent for a while, long enough that Annette’s worried she’s offended him in some way, or maybe brought up unpleasant memories. She knows better than most how awkward reminiscing on family can be. Annette looks up from her decorating, guilt broiling in her stomach.</p><p>“I’m so sorry for putting you on the spot—”</p><p>“No,” Felix says. The way he cuts her off is abrupt, but he doesn’t sound angry. His voice is softer than Annette’s ever heard it before, something that Annette might call “wistful” if describing Felix in that manner didn’t sound absurd. </p><p>But as he continues speaking, that’s exactly how he sounds: wistful, and a little sad. </p><p>“My mom used to put red envelopes under our pillows so we’d wake up with it in the morning. We didn’t do presents or any of that Santa shit, but that was always nice to look forward to, I guess,” Felix says. His expression is neutral, but his knuckles are clenched white. “She passed away, so she doesn’t do it anymore. Obviously.” </p><p>It’s not where Annette had expected the conversation to go. Maybe if she were someone else, someone who related less to what Felix was talking about, she would feel awkward and compelled to apologize. But because she’s Annette—because she spent so many years waiting by the mailbox for presents and letters that never came—she feels moved that Felix is trusting her with this information. </p><p>Annette doesn’t offer her sympathies, because she knows it’s never what she wanted in these kinds of conversations. Instead, she tries for empathy. </p><p>“My dad was a really good woodcarver, and he made these little nativity dolls for the local church back in Michigan. They used to put it on their lawn every Christmas. After he left, I always wondered why he could make such a nice family out of wood, but he was so bad at it in real life,” Annette says, her voice breaking up at the end of her sentence. </p><p>Felix’s eyes finally meet hers. There’s an intensity in his expression, one that’s fierce and blazing, but strangely comforting all the same. He’s angry, Annette realizes, but not at her.</p><p>“Your dad sucks,” is all he says, and the statement is so definitively said that Annette can’t help but chuckle despite the heavy subject matter. </p><p>“Yeah. I guess he kind of does,” Annette says.</p><p>“That’s fine. Mine kind of sucks too,” Felix says. He plucks one of the mini candy canes they had been using for fencing and hands it to her. “Here.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Take it. You’re always happier when you have sugar in you, for some reason.” </p><p>“Felix! You ruined our fence!” Annette chides, but she pops the sweet into her mouth anyways. The sharp, sugary taste does admittedly help her feel better. </p><p>“Whatever. There are like sixty more we can replace it with,” Felix says. “The house isn’t as important as—”</p><p>Felix falls abruptly silent again, and this time it’s <em> his </em> ears that are quickly reddening. Annette flushes too, but she doesn’t let herself wonder about the end of his sentence. Instead, she takes mercy on the both of them and changes the subject.</p><p>“I don’t know if this counts as a tradition, since it’s only been the past few years, but I’ve been living with my roommate—Mercedes—since undergrad. Every Christmas, we watch <em> The Polar Express </em> and then drink as many cups of hot chocolate as we can,” Annette says, picking her icing tube back up. “My record is seven cups in one night, in case you were wondering.”</p><p>“That’s actually disgusting,” Felix says, but he seems relieved for the change in topic. </p><p>“No, it’s great! If I win this contest, I want to give her the other ticket for the dinner. I think it’d be the perfect Christmas present for her,” Annette sighs. “She’s such a great gift giver it makes me feel awful in comparison. Mercie even makes her cocoa from scratch!”</p><p>“Sylvain does something like that too, but he wastes a whole day making apple cider rum instead of hot chocolate.” </p><p>“Oh, that sounds nice and festive! Don’t tell me you’ve never joined him?” Annette teases. It hadn’t taken much time in the office to pick up on their friendship dynamic, which (according to Annette’s observations) consisted of Felix complaining about something Sylvain was doing, but going along with him anyways. </p><p>Felix grumbles. “He’s roped me into it once or twice.”</p><p>“Speaking of, I wonder what kind of house he and Ingrid are building,” Annette says, craning her neck in an attempt to catch sight of the other pair. She can see them clearly at their table, but the angle she’s standing at makes it hard for her to see the house. </p><p>“I don’t know. But Ingrid really wanted to win the train tickets, so they’re probably taking this way too seriously,” Felix says, and adds as an afterthought, “like you.” </p><p>Annette nudges Felix with her foot again, but her attention is still on trying to catch a peek of the other house. “Darn it, I can’t see it at all from here.” </p><p>“Why don’t you just walk over there?”</p><p>“I’m allowed to do that?”</p><p>Felix raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you be? It’s not like there are real rules to this thing.”</p><p>Oh. Huh. Felix has a point. Dimitri hadn’t said anything about approaching the other contestants, had he? Annette’s gotten into her own head again. </p><p>“Would you mind if I went to go look at their table? It won’t take too long, I promise. I just want to see what we’re competing with,” she says. Now would be a good time to take a break anyways, since she’s finished her icing work and her hand is starting to cramp. Felix is still setting up their base, but Annette trusts him to manage that by himself. </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Ah, yay! Thank you.”</p><p>“You should knock down their house,” Felix adds.</p><p>“Felix, no, that’s so mean!” Annette scolds, but she reconsiders his words. “Okay, maybe, but only if it’s really good.” </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>RECONNAISSANCE - 9:32 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>Annette is deep in enemy territory. </p><p>That is, she’s five paces away from where her own gingerbread house is, doing her best to appear nonchalant as she slides up to Ingrid and Sylvain’s table. It seems like Sylvain must have roped Ingrid into matching holiday accessories, because there’s a jaunty green elf cap on her head that definitely wasn’t there when the party began.</p><p>“Hey, Annette,” the redheaded man says, giving her a sideways grin. “Welcome to the Gautier-Galatea palace. Can we help you?”</p><p>Annette smooths her bangs out of her face. “Oh, I’m just looking around. Seeing what everyone else is up to, you know. Trying to get inspiration.” </p><p>“It’s hard to believe that the woman who got her own architectural scale out for this contest needs any inspiration from <em> us </em>, but you’re welcome to hang out here,” Ingrid says, wiping off her hands on a paper towel. Annette leans in slightly to inspect their gingerbread house, and privately agrees that it isn’t much of a threat.</p><p>Despite the fact that it’s sloppy, however, Annette finds it adorable. She can’t hide her smile when she sees the two gingerbread people perched up against a peanut butter cup. One of them has a large, looping smile made out of frosting, and the other one has hair made out of red licorice.</p><p>“Aw, is that you two?” Annette asks. </p><p>“Yes! Oh, you can tell it’s supposed to be us? That’s such a relief,” Ingrid sighs. “Neither of us are really artists.”</p><p>“<em> I </em> think they look just like us. It wouldn't be the Gautier-Galatea palace without a Gautier or Galatea,” Sylvain says, throwing his arm around his fiance. Ingrid rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away from him. </p><p>“Should I take the fact that you apparently think I have Skittles for eyes as an insult?”</p><p>Sylvain places a hand over his heart. “Ingrid, you should know by now that I think your Skittle eyes are your best feature by far.” </p><p>Ingrid swats him.</p><p>Annette giggles, amused by their antics, but something else on the table catches her attention. It’s a third gingerbread man, placed right by one of the windows. This one is somehow even messier than the other two.</p><p>“Who’s that supposed to be?” Annette says, doing her best to gesture towards the gingerbread man without nudging too close.</p><p>Ingrid groans. “That was Sylvain’s idea.”</p><p>“It’s Felix, obviously! Can’t you tell by his angry eyebrows?” Sylvain says, excitedly pulling away from Ingrid to jab a finger at the black smears of frosting that kind of look like eyebrows, if Annette squints and tilts her head a bit. “He’s outside our gingerbread palace because he’s lonely and is desperate to spend time with his best friends, but also too much of a sulky emo to say anything about it. Just like in real life!”</p><p>Something small and white flies over Annette’s shoulder, smacking Sylvain right on the forehead. </p><p>“I can hear you, jackass,” Felix calls out. A bag of jumbo marshmallows is cradled in his arms; more ammunition at the ready. Annette wonders if she should remind Felix that the marshmallows are for their snowman, but decides to let him be. She does kind of want to see what happens.</p><p>Still, Annette decides to go to a different table, just to avoid being in the potential line of fire. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>KNOW THY ENEMY - 9:39 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>Despite the fact that she’s only a few years older than the interns, Annette can’t help but feel <em> ancient </em> compared to them. She stares at the bare-bones gingerbread house on their table (can it be called a house? It’s more of a shack, if anything), trying to make sense of what it is. The only decoration on it is a handful of hundreds-and-thousands thrown haphazardly onto the roof.</p><p>“It’s uh, so tiny!” Annette says, reaching for a compliment and failing. Lysithea, who hasn’t even bothered to put on an apron, sighs.</p><p>“You don’t need to lie to us. It’s garbage,” the white-haired woman says, peeling open a box of Junior Mints in the exhausted way that Annette’s seen middle-aged men crack open beers. </p><p>“Our first try fell on the floor,” Cyril says, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the trash can. The entire front of his apron is covered in powdered sugar, and there’s so much of it on his dark hair that it almost makes him match Lysithea.</p><p>“Oh, that’s terrible!” Annette says, biting her lip. “Do you want me to help you remake it?” Maybe it’s not the smartest thing, offering help to another pair of contestants when Annette wants to win so badly, but she’s not a monster. Still, she’s relieved when Lysithea shakes her head no.</p><p>“Thanks, but it’s fine. Neither of us were really into any of the prizes anyways. We’re just taking advantage of the candy now.”</p><p>Annette perks up. “You're not interested in the winery train? Are you old enough to drink?”</p><p>“Yeah, we are, but I don’t drink for religious reasons,” Cyril says, even as Lysithea lets out an irritated sniff at the question. The younger woman has always been sensitive about people commenting on her age, for some reason. </p><p>“And I can’t, since it interferes with my medication. So an evening devoted to wine is kind of pointless prize for us,” Lysithea says. </p><p>Annette is secretly kind of thrilled. Their lack of motivation means that there’s one less competing team to worry about. </p><p>“How about the spa?” Annette asks, and Lysithea nearly chokes on a Junior Mint.</p><p>“What do you—” a cough, and Cyril has to reach over to keep Lysithea from keeling over the table. “What are you talking about? We’re <em> just </em> friends. It would be really weird for me and Cyril to go to a spa together, right?” </p><p>Oh. <em> Oh </em> , this is <em> so cute </em>. Annette’s no expert in love, but she knows a crush when she sees one, and as Lysithea turns pinker and pinker with every second Cyril’s hand is still on her shoulder, Annette has to resist the urge to squeal. The two interns! Despite the fact that she’s overjoyed at this revelation, Annette schools her expression into what she thinks is polite ignorance and tries to speak like a normal human. </p><p>“Ah, well, it’s okay to just enjoy the candy too. I think Dedue made a gingerbread loaf. You should go try it,” Annette says, and because she can’t resist, adds, “together.” </p><p>Lysithea does her best not to look too excited. It isn’t really working.</p><p>“Maybe. It sounds good,” Lysithea says. She still has not, Annette notices, put down her box of candies <em> or </em> shrugged away from Cyril. </p><p>“I gotta admit, the smell of gingerbread is making me hungry. Mind if I join ya, Lys?” Cyril says. </p><p>Lysithea huffs. “I can’t stop you,” she says, but she seems pleased all the same. The pair take a few steps towards the food spread, but Lysithea turns back to Annette. </p><p>“Good luck with the contest,” Lysithea says, and there’s a hint of exasperated gratitude in the younger woman’s voice, one that tells Annette that she really isn’t as slick as she thinks she is. </p><p>Watching Cyril lean over and say something that makes Lystihea burst out laughing, Annette feels proud of herself regardless.</p><p>“They’re <em> finally </em> gone,” a voice from behind Annette says: unfamiliar, smooth, and male. Annette whips around to find herself face-to-face with Yuri Leclerc. They’ve never met before tonight; Annette knows this for certain, because she’s pretty sure it’s impossible to forget meeting someone like Yuri. There’s streaks of gold eyeshadow above both of his eyes, glimmering to match the lights on his sweater. </p><p>Yuri either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about Annette’s surprise, leaning over her to swipe a roll of Necco Wafers off of Lysithea’s table. “We’ve been waiting for them to go for ages. Bernadetta wants them for our roof, and we ran out of our own supply.” </p><p>That makes Annette nervous. Using wafers to make the tiling of a roof was a smart idea, and more time effective than what she and Felix had been doing. Annette has to actively resist running back to Felix, throwing away their house, and restarting the whole thing from scratch. Speaking with Sylvain and Lysithea had eased Annette into a false sense of security, but Bernadetta might prove to be an actual challenge. </p><p>As if on cue, the woman herself appears next to Yuri. </p><p>“Yuri, did you get the—oh, Annette! Is something wrong?” Bernadetta asks, wringing the sleeves of her candy-striped sweater in her hands. “I’m not bothering you and Felix, am I?”</p><p>“No, not at all! I’ve just been taking a break, y’know, walking around to see how everyone’s houses are progressing,” Annette says. Rather than this calming her purple-haired friend down, however, Annette’s words only seem to rile her up. Bernadetta throws out her arms in a defensive position, shielding her table from view.</p><p>“Sorry! No peeking,” Bernadetta says. She sounds apologetic, but her voice is firm. “No one can see Bernie's house except for Bernie.” </p><p>“And Yuri,” Yuri adds, grinning. </p><p>“And Yuri,” Bernadetta affirms.</p><p> Annette stands on her tiptoes, hoping that the extra inch will provide her with a better line-of-sight, but Bernadetta is too tall for her to peer over. Annette settles back on her heels, reluctantly accepting that she won’t be able to get a sneak peek of this house. </p><p>“Well, I’m sure it’ll look great!” Annette says. Bernadetta gives her a small smile.</p><p>“I hope so. You too! Uh, I mean, I’m sure your house looks great too,” Bernadetta says, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. </p><p>“I can see it from here,” Yuri says easily. “That grumpy boyfriend of yours is sure working hard. <em> Adorable </em>.”</p><p>In the Saturday morning cartoons she watched growing up, the cartoon characters always reacted in funny, overdramatic ways. Annette, who had been obsessed with Bugs Bunny as a child, had once spent an entire week fretting over whether her head could <em> really </em>turn red and blow steam like a boiling tea kettle if she ever got too embarrassed. She had only calmed down when her mother had reassured her that that was only possible in cartoons.</p><p>Well, apparently her mom was a liar, because Annette’s ears are so hot right now that they’re practically whistling. </p><p>“What do you—”</p><p>“I’ve never seen Felix participate in an office activity before!” Bernadetta chimes in. “He always seems happier when you’re around, Annette.” </p><p>Yuri raises an eyebrow “That’s him being <em> happier </em>?”</p><p>After a few false starts, Annette manages to find her voice again. </p><p>“Felix isn’t—I mean we aren’t—” she stammers out, faltering again when Yuri gives her a smile that’s a touch too indulgent, as if he knows something she doesn’t. Annette looks to Bernadetta to step in and correct Yuri, but the expression on the taller woman’s face is nothing but earnest. </p><p>Which means that they actually think that Annette and Felix are—</p><p>“I have to go! Gingerbread emergency!” Annette says, her voice pitched several octaves higher than usual, and as she dashes back towards her own table, she can hear Yuri laughing.  </p><p>This must be some sort of payback from the universe for her earlier conversation with Lysithea.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>KNOW THYSELF - 9:48 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>“You’re back,” Felix says. He looks up and furrows his brows. “Why are you so red?”</p><p>“I’m a normal color,” Annette says, as if her words alone will be enough to convince Felix that the lobster-like hue of her face is natural. She ducks her head down to examine the progress he’s made on the gingerbread house, hyper aware of his eyes on her all the while. </p><p>She’s pleased to see all of her carefully-iced cookies constructed together to form their two-story gingerbread house. Felix has done an astoundingly neat job. All the angles are correct, nothing looks in danger of caving or collapsing, and he’s even managed to clean up their workstation a bit.</p><p>“Felix! This looks amazing. You did such a good job,” Annette says, forgetting her embarrassment in her excitement. Felix grunts at her praise. </p><p>“It was good that you were walking around when I put it together. You would have knocked it over,” he says dryly. Annette pouts, but she’s lived with herself long enough to know that he’s probably right.</p><p>With the building put together, the pair move onto Annette’s favorite part of gingerbread house decorating: the actual decorating. Chocolate kisses are added to the perimeter of their house, candy corn is used for their snowman’s nose, and Felix gives one of their gingerbread men a lollipop.</p><p>“What is that supposed to be?” Annette asks.</p><p>“Sword,” is all Felix offers by way of explanation. He’s so focused on properly securing the stick to the gingerbread man’s hand that his tongue is poking out between his teeth. Annette wishes she could take a picture.</p><p>She grins. “Um, why does he have a sword?” </p><p>“To fight the other contestants with,” Felix says, blowing a strand of loose hair out of his eyes.</p><p>“The lollipop—the sword, I mean—is bigger than he is!” Annette says. Felix taps his fingers against the table and shakes his head. </p><p>“That’s how you know it’s a good sword.” </p><p>His tone and expression are completely serious. Annette laughs so hard that she lets out a wheeze like a squeaky toy, which only makes her laugh harder. Felix looks bemused, but also a little pleased that he’s managed to entertain her so much. Annette does have to talk him out of giving every gingerbread man a sword (“one is enough, Felix,”), but after another five minutes or so, they end up with a very pleasant-looking gingerbread house. </p><p>Dimitri calls time right as the clock strikes ten. Annette reluctantly steps away from her table. </p><p>“It’s a good thing people don’t actually eat these monstrosities,” Felix says, prodding the last gumdrop into place. Annette hums in agreement, stretching her arms far above her head, wincing as something in her right shoulder pops. </p><p>It kind of looks like the office’s been hit by a large, candy-cane colored hurricane; there’s bits of candy stuck to the carpet now, and Annette inexplicably finds a jelly bean stuck in her hair. She’s not the only one who’s sacrificed looks for the sake of their gingerbread house; Felix’s entire left arm is coated in a fine layer of powdered sugar (courtesy of her, oops), and there’s a streak of frosting on his cheek. He looks like the world’s grumpiest pastry chef. </p><p>Annette says a quick prayer for whoever has to clean up after them. </p><p>The other contestants have finished as well, most of them just as messy as Annette is. In the chaos, Sylvain’s elf hat has somehow found its way onto Cyril, and it sits on the black-haired man’s head at a delightfully jaunty angle. One of the bulbs on Yuri’s holiday sweater has shattered. Marianne’s missing an earring. </p><p>The only people who look relatively unscathed are the judges: Dimitri, Dedue, and—</p><p>“That’s Dimitri’s sister,” Felix says, pointing at the diminutive brunette woman next to Dimitri as if <em> that’s </em> the significant thing about her. </p><p>“Um,” Annette says, voice suddenly very small. “That’s Edelgard von Hresvelg.”</p><p>“Yeah, different last names. They have the same mom, different dad.” </p><p>Annette can’t decide if she wants to kick something or dissolve into tears. “No! I mean, that’s <em> Edelgard von Hresvelg </em> . The <em> Congresswoman </em>.” </p><p>Felix frowns. “Yeah?”</p><p>“<em> Why is she here. </em>” </p><p>“Dimitri said. She’s judging the contest.” </p><p>Annette buries her head in her hands, stickiness and frosting be damned. She’s going to have to interact with a famous politician looking like a Keebler elf someone’s dragged through the gutter. “Felix,” she says, voice muffled through her fingers. “<em> Why </em>.”</p><p>Felix, to his credit, seems genuinely confused. “You told me to point her out to you when she came.” </p><p>Annette's gingerbread house is going to be judged by a sitting member of the House of Representatives. One who appears in national headlines almost daily. Felix, who has known Dimitri for all of his life, might be used to it, but Annette <em> definitely </em> needed some kind of warning! If she had known that <em> Edelgard von Hresvelg </em> would be the one looking at her gingerbread house, she would have made it three tiered with working electricity. </p><p>But it’s too late now. With no better course of action, Annette slams her face into the back of Felix’s sweater and lets out a muffled wail. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong> <em>DÉTENTE - 10:10 PM</em> </strong>
</p><p>“Hello Annette, Felix. I hope you both enjoyed working together. It’s clear that you two worked hard, and I can’t wait to see what you have,” Dimitri says politely, his one working eye observing the house in front of them.</p><p>Felix grunts noncommittally. Annette opens and closes her mouth several times, but no words come out. Why did they have to be judged first?</p><p>“It’s certainly very neat, and I’m impressed at how well it’s standing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a two-story gingerbread house before.” Edelgard says, and oh god, she’s talking <em> right at Annette </em>. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself to you yet. I’m Edelgard. You must be the new employee my brother was talking about. Are you an architect?” </p><p>“No. UX designer,” Annette says. Her voice is remarkably even, despite the fact that it feels like her stomach is currently performing a ribbon dance with her intestines. “I just like things to be precise.</p><p>Edelgard smiles. “Well, we definitely have that in common.” </p><p>“It’s nice that you chose a color palette and stuck to it,” Dedue says, and Annette latches onto the deep, familiar cadence of his voice. </p><p>“That must have been difficult with all the different types of candy,” Dimitri observes. </p><p>“It was, a little, but I think it worked out well too! That was, um, actually Felix’s idea,” Annette says. </p><p>All three of the judges look surprised. “Felix, I had no idea you had it in you to care about this kind of thing,” Edelgard says. “You seemed rather against it at last year’s holiday party. What changed your mind?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Felix snaps. “It’s not that damn hard to decorate a cookie.” </p><p>“Huh,” Edelgard says, and she exchanges a look with her brother. It’s the same expression Yuri had had earlier when he had called Felix her boyfriend, and Annette doesn’t want to think about the Implications, so she does what she always does in these kinds of situations: ramble. </p><p>“We based the design of the house off the Victorian buildings San Francisco is known for! It was really fun to use that style as a reference, since I finally got to see those buildings in real life recently. They’re so pretty and intricate, and I tried to copy that with the icing,” Annette says.</p><p>“You did a good job. I got the inspiration right away,” Dedue says.</p><p>“Dedue’s right. It does look wonderful, and it’s nice to hear that the both of you enjoyed yourself,” Dimitri says. He hesitates for a second, and then points at the gingerbread man holding a lollipop. “Felix did this, right?” </p><p>Felix crosses his arms. “Yeah.”</p><p>“It’s a sword?”</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“Nice,” Dimitri says, and Annette can suddenly understand why these two men are friends. </p><p>The trio judging move onto the other contest participants. A very nervous Marianne presents her gingerbread <em> horse </em>, a pun which sets Dimitri off laughing harder than Annette’s ever seen in her life. The fancy little horse is decorated with complicated icing swirls courtesy of Ashe’s practiced hands.</p><p>Sylvain and Ingrid’s palace is lovably sloppy, and with the amount of alcohol they’ve had in the past hour, so are they. Cyril and Lysithea present their gingerbread shack with very little enthusiasm; Annette swears that it seems <em> less </em> decorated than the first time she saw it, and one glance at Lysithea’s candy-stained hands answers why. Bernadetta and Yuri’s gingerbread house is an explosion of color, with a pretty rainbow roof and so much candy that the gingerbread below is barely visible. </p><p>Annette shudders slightly as the judges go through the last few houses.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Felix asks.</p><p>“Some of them are really good. I’m worried we won’t win,” Annette murmurs back. </p><p>“You’ll be fine,” Felix says. “Also, it really won’t matter if you lose. This is an office decorating contest, not a war.”</p><p>Annette rolls her eyes, but his words do help calm her down, in the way that his frank honesty always seems to.</p><p>She nudges him gently with her elbow. “Hey. Thanks for agreeing to be my teammate. I know I can get a little intense about these kinds of things.”</p><p>“A little?” Felix asks, but there’s no malice in his voice. </p><p>“Felix! Seriously.”</p><p>“Hm. Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was not terrible.” </p><p>Regardless of what the results of the contest are, Annette is considering <em> that </em> admission a win. </p><p>Annette is still Annette, however, and she still does enjoy her <em> actual </em> win. Very much. She tries not to be braggy about it, but her restraint doesn’t stop her from doing an overeager and thoroughly dorky celebratory dance once Dimitri announces her victory. Dimitri liked her gingerbread house! Dedue liked her gingerbread house! <em> Edelgard von Hresvelg </em> liked her gingerbread house!</p><p>Annette is going to scrapbook this moment as soon as she gets home.</p><p>Bernadetta wins second place and Ashe third, but after hearing about Marianne’s love for animals, the purple-haired woman offers to trade prizes. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Ashe asks, his green eyes wide. Bernadetta nods rapidly. </p><p>“Um, yeah! I know your wife really likes horses, and I feel like you guys would enjoy the time at the zoo more than Yuri or I,” she says. </p><p>“She’s right,” Yuri adds from behind Bernadetta. “I am very allergic to pretty much every animal there.” </p><p>“Um, if I’m wrong and just assuming stuff, it’s okay! Just pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry if that was rude,” Bernadetta says. </p><p>“No, no, not at all! That’s really nice of you, Bernadetta,” Ashe says. “If you’re alright with it, then sure, I’d love to trade with you. Marianne will be overjoyed, really.” </p><p>Bernadetta sighs in relief. “Oh, that’s good. And um, Annette, congratulations!”</p><p>“Congrats, Annette! That win was well deserved. Your decorations were incredible. It looked like an actual house someone would want to live in,” Ashe says. </p><p>“Thanks, guys,” Annette beams. “I thought the way you and Marianne made a horse was really clever. And Bernadetta, I seriously feel like you should submit your house to some sort of art gallery!” </p><p>The Gautier-Galatea palace didn’t end up winning anything, but Dedue tells them they can take the leftovers from the party home, and Annette supposes that that’s pretty much Ingrid’s Christmas made. Annette spends the rest of the evening chatting with as many of the other guests as possible, happily accepting praise and relishing in the festive spirit. At around eleven PM, Dimitri disappears from the party and reappears dressed as Santa Claus which sends Sylvain nearly catatonic with laughter. Annette even manages to have a decent conversation with Edelgard about architecture, finding the other woman very well-spoken.</p><p>The party does, however, eventually come to an end. Dimitri gives them a final few words thanking them for their dedication and friendship, coats are put on, farewells are said, and Annette steps out into the cold.</p><p>She hasn’t called for a ride yet. She will, soon, but only after she has one last conversation.</p><p>“Hey Felix,” Annette says, stepping up to where the man is standing by the office’s front steps. “Thanks again for tonight. You did a really good job.”</p><p>Felix looks up from his phone; the light from the screen illuminates the sharp angles of his face and casts him in a very mystical sort of lighting. He’s thrown on a heavy grey coat over the sweater, and when he speaks, his breath comes out in puffs of steam. </p><p>“It was worth it to see your victory dance,” he says. “You have excellent footwork.”</p><p>Annette blushes. “Gosh, I hope no one recorded that. Wait, that’s not what I want to talk to you about. I actually wanted to ask you if you…” The end of the sentence is barely audible coming out of her mouth.</p><p>Felix tucks away his phone. “What?” </p><p>“I <em> said </em>,” Annette inhales. “I was wondering if you would want to have the other ticket for the winery tour. Since you were the other half of my team, and everything.”</p><p>“Didn’t you want that for your roommate?”</p><p>“I told Mercedes about it, and she said that the dates it’s valid for are the weeks she has to study for her med school finals” </p><p>“That’s unfortunate,” Felix says, and his expression is infuriatingly neutral. “Can’t you just go on different days?”</p><p>“Um, first of all, it would be really sad for me if I had to experience all the wonders of wine and cake all on my own. I want to experience that with a friend! And no, you have to use them both on the same day,” Annette says quickly. </p><p>Felix stares at her for a good long while. Kind of <em> too </em>long. When he finally speaks again, his words come out slowly, as if he doesn’t quite understand what Annette is saying.</p><p>“So you’re asking me…”</p><p>“I’m asking you to take your rightful ticket and come with me for this trip.” </p><p>“You don’t have to give it to me just because I helped you win it. I told you, I’m not that invested in the prize.” </p><p>Annette puffs out her cheeks. “I’m not asking you because I feel like I have to. I’m asking you because I <em> want </em> to.”</p><p>Felix stares at her. “Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>He takes a step towards her. “I won’t eat any of the cakes.”</p><p>“Perfect,” Annette says. “More for me.”</p><p>“If there are old rich people from Sacramento on the train, I <em> will </em> complain about them and get us thrown off.”</p><p>“I know.” </p><p>“Okay then.” </p><p>“Okay then.” </p><p>Felix leans in to Annette, close enough that she can see the flecks of copper in his brown eyes, and brushes a strand of her hair out of her face. She breathes in sharply, thinking for a second he’s going to—</p><p>“Jellybean,” he says, and there is indeed a piece of candy in his hand that wasn’t there before. “In your hair.”</p><p>“Oh,” Annette says. “Thanks.”</p><p>Felix tosses it to the ground. ”Yeah, well. Happy holidays, Annette.” </p><p>“Happy holidays, Felix.” </p><p>He gives her a curt nod and turns to leave. Annette watches him walk down the street until she can no longer see his dark coat silhouetted against the darker night.</p><p>Then she calls herself an Uber, her face feeling very warm despite the chill in the air.  </p><p>
  <strong> <em>VICTORY - 12:01 AM</em> </strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just FYI, Mercedes heard that Annette was working with a cute boy and fabricated a schedule conflict out of thin air. ("Oh no, Annie, I can't make it. Guess you'll have to take someone else!")</p><p>I hope you had fun reading this! A wine themed follow-up might be in the works someday. I really enjoyed writing this fluffy, self-indulgent piece, and it was honestly the only thing reminding of Christmas in this weird year. Marianne making a gingerbread horse was honestly inspired by the fact that I kept misspelling "house" and was like "wait, no, that's perfect." </p><p>Happy holidays! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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